


Dog Years

by carolinecrane



Category: Big Eden (2000)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: Frances has been with him just about four years when he hears the news that Henry Hart’s going to have a couple paintings hanging in the Guggenheim.





	Dog Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



The first time Pike sees Frances, she’s still a puppy, covered in mud and growing into her paws. 

He steps out onto the porch when he opens the store on a still-chilly May morning, breathing in air scented with ash from the controlled burn in the Flathead National Forest. It’s not strong enough to make the people in town twitchy, nothing like the wildfires that they’re trying to prevent in the first place, but it’s enough to chase plenty of wildlife closer to civilization than they’d normally stray.

He’s about to turn back inside to go through the morning routine when he hears it, a soft whine coming from under the porch. Pike climbs down the stairs softly, moving quietly despite his size until he can squat down and peer underneath the boards at whatever creature’s making such a pitiful sound.

A pair of eyes stare out at him, made brighter by the fact that the dog’s fur looks matted and dirty. Pike can’t tell much more about it, wedged back as far under the porch as it is, but he wonders if maybe it’s a stray that was chased down the mountain like the squirrels and the birds when the fire spread.

“You’re all right,” he says, voice soft and calm, the way he used to speak to spooked horses before his father broke them. “Everything’s just fine.”

He stands up slowly and heads back inside, fetching an old bowl from the kitchen to fill with water. Another bowl gets filled with kibble he takes from the store inventory, and he takes slow, careful steps as he balances both bowls all the way back to the front porch. He sets the bowls down just far enough to coax her out, but not so far away from safety that the dog’s liable to be too scared to venture from her hiding place.

After that all he can do is wait, so he heads back inside to turn on the cappuccino machine and count the money in the till.

In the end it takes two whole days before the dog will let Pike get close enough to see that she’s a female and far skinnier than she should be. He wonders darkly if someone dumped her out in the forest to fend for herself, as though a scared pup all alone would know how to find food and shelter from the much larger predators in the wild.

The Seven Dwarves spend the entire two days taking turns trying to coax her out, of course, attempting to bribe her with bits of bread and bacon that she snatches lightning-fast before she scoots back out of reach. It slows down the whole process, but Pike gives up trying to get them to back off after the first day, because he knows they mostly can’t help themselves.

Anyway he doesn’t blame them, because the longer she spends under the porch the more his worry for her ratchets up, until he’s half convinced himself that he’ll come out the next morning and find her dead under there. Or worse, she’ll be gone altogether and he’ll never know what happened. So he sits on the porch long into the evening of the second day, watching the sun set and then each star come out, one by one, until the sky is blanketed with them.

He’s almost ready to give up and call it a night when he hears the soft scratching of toenails against the ground, and a few moments later a pair of bright eyes pop up to regard him. Pike smiles, small and private, and reaches down slow as he can to offer his fingers. The dog sniffs them, then she backs off a little, and Pike thinks for a few seconds that she might bolt. But he stays as still as he can, and finally she makes up her mind and climbs the porch steps to settle down next to him.

The dog lets out a sigh and Pike reaches over, still moving slow, to run a gentle hand along her back. “That’s right, girl. You’re safe here.”

She lets out a little whine and lets Pike scratch behind her ears. They sit like that for a long time, and when Pike finally forces himself to stretch out stiff limbs and head in for the night, the dog follows behind him like she belongs.

***

Frances has been with him just about four years when he hears the news that Henry Hart’s going to have a couple paintings hanging in the Guggenheim. It’s Jennie who mentions it in passing, a day after Henry gets back to town, when she stops by to pick up the mail.

“Henry Hart got back to town last night,” she says, leaning on the counter while Pike rifles through the mail for the pile that belongs to her and Carol. Pike’s hand freezes for a heartbeat, fingers shaking ever so slightly, and Frances whines and lifts her head off her paws to look up at him.

Before Jennie can notice he shakes it off, focusing on the task at hand so he won’t let on what that news does to his insides. “Oh?”

Jennie hums an affirmative and drops her voice a little, like she’s telling Pike a secret. “One of the night nurses overheard him talking to Sam. Says he’s got a couple paintings going to some museum in New York. I guess he’s doing pretty well for himself.”

Pike knows Henry’s doing well, mainly because he’s followed Henry’s career as well as he can from so far away. Most of the details about Henry’s life he gets out of Sam, though for some reason Grace volunteers news about him whenever she has any to tell. The rest he gets online, though his internet connection is slow and artists don’t seem to be much interested in keeping up with the times technology-wise, even in New York. So all he really knows is that Henry’s got some fancy gallery representing him, and that Henry had a big show coming up when Sam fell off the roof and called him home.

The news about the museum is new, but he supposes neither Sam or Grace has been in a position to pass it along. He knows Sam only updates him on Henry’s life because he likes having someone to brag to about how his boy’s doing. Pike’s a captive audience for a lot of the gossip in town, and the fact that he’s quiet means people generally trust him not to repeat what he hears to anyone else. And he doesn’t; he holds every scrap of information about Henry’s goings-on as close as he can, mainly because he’s not sure how to explain why he wants to know what’s happening with someone he hasn’t seen since high school and barely spoke to back then.

Jennie thanks him for the mail and leaves not long after, and once she’s gone he reaches down to scratch Frances’ ears and try to decide how to feel about the fact that Henry’s back in town. There’s a giddy anticipation alongside the fear that he’s so unaccustomed to he has no idea how to handle it. So he ignores it, focuses on inventory and replacing stock and making sure Frances never feels neglected despite spending nearly every minute of every day in Pike’s company.

When Henry does finally turn up, Frances takes to him right away. That’s not really a surprise; she learned a long time ago that people mean food, and she’s never been above using that fact to her advantage. Still, it’s harder to see Frances with him than he expected, maybe because she’s such a big part of Pike’s life now, and Henry hasn’t been in his life for a long time.

Except that’s not true, exactly, because even though Henry’s been gone since graduation, Pike’s never really let him go. There have been others, an awkward date here and there forced on him by Widow Thayer or sometimes Jim, and he knows they’re only trying to see him happy, but he’s never been able to forget Henry long enough to move on. Maybe that means he’s destined to be one of those sad stories people whisper about, but he mostly doesn’t mind. He’s been fine on his own for a long time, and anyway, he’s got Frances to keep him company.

***

When Henry comes by to say he’s leaving, Pike doesn’t take it all that well. He hadn’t meant to get his hopes up, had done his best to keep his distance. But somehow Henry had gotten back under his skin all the same, so when he says he’s going back to the city and a life that has no room for Pike, he’s taken by surprise.

Then Sam’s gone and with him Henry’s only reason to come home, and Pike knows this is it. He’ll never see Henry Hart again, so there’s no point in drawing things out and pretending to be friendly when what he’s feeling is the exact opposite. Frances whines at him, whether because she senses his grief or if she’s missing all the other people she’s used to seeing every day, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t much care, either, because it’s always been just him and Frances, and it can be that way again. As soon as Henry’s gone Pike will get down to the business of finally letting go of him once and for all, and eventually he’ll be alright. It’s what he tells himself when he looks in the mirror and sees the bone-deep misery etched there, that he’s lived through Henry going once, and he can do it again.

Then again, until he came home Henry had always just been an idea in Pike’s head, a story he’d only heard part of but never gotten to the ending. He was a might have been, a long-ago dream, right up until he walked back into the store with Grace and gave Pike an awkward smile. He tried not to notice the way Henry’s eyes would soften every time Pike looked at him, or the way he persisted in trying to get Pike to stay for supper even after a dozen refusals.

Only he did notice, and maybe that’s the reason he lets Jim talk him into going after Henry, only to get his heart broken one more time when he misses the plane by minutes. He knows Henry won’t be coming back to Big Eden again. Pike had offered everything he had and it wasn’t enough to make him stay, so it won’t be enough to bring him home, either. But Pike knows how to be alone, so he’ll be fine. He tells himself as much all the way home, right up until he pulls up next to Sam Hart’s truck where it’s parked out in front of the store.

When he gets inside Henry’s there, smiling like he’s right where he belongs, and all Pike can do is smile helplessly back at him, his insides warming the way they did when Henry gave him the Pleiades. It’s not until later, when the last of the stragglers have gone and they’re sitting side by side, drinking cappuccinos while Frances snores next to them, that Pike asks him why he stayed. 

“I’ve spent the past eighteen years trying to prove that I could take care of myself,” Henry says with a wry smile. “The whole time I was hanging onto a fantasy that I knew was never going to happen, just so I wouldn’t have to take any risks. Sure, I moved to the big city and managed to survive, even started a successful career in a tough industry. So I told myself I was living, but the truth is I was hiding.”

Henry pauses and looks down at his cappuccino, wrapping his hands around the mug as he stares into it like maybe the words he wants to say are written in there somewhere. “I was hiding because I was scared, of what Sam would think if he knew the truth and of what would happen if I let myself really live. Then I came back here and it was almost suffocating, the way everyone wanted to take care of me. Between Grace and Mrs. Thayer and Dean...”

He trails off, cheeks going a little red, and Pike manages not to flinch at the mention of Dean. He’s never been able to hide his jealousy, not from the people who know him. It’s probably always going to bother him a little, how close Dean and Henry are. They’ve got a whole shared history Pike will never be part of, and that’s always going to hurt a little, even though he’s sure now that they’ll never be more than friends.

“You didn’t hover the way they did,” Henry says, and this time his smile is amused. “If anything, you seemed like you couldn’t wait to get away from me every time I saw you. At first I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t...” Pike protests, but Henry interrupts him with a head shake and another smile.

“I know. I stopped thinking that after we had that first dinner together and I discovered how much I liked spending time with you. But then Sampa...” Henry trails off again, his voice catching, and Pike waits while he gathers himself enough to continue. “And all I wanted to do was run again. I told myself it wasn’t running, that I was just going back to my life, back to taking care of myself now that there was no one here to take care of. We were nearly in the car to the airport when I found out that you’d been taking care of me this whole time.”

Pike’s not sure what to say to that, because it’s true, but he’s never been good at talking about his feelings. Most of the time he’s not sure _what_ he’s feeling, but when Henry reaches over and takes one of his hands, warm from his coffee cup and fitting perfectly in Pike’s, he thinks maybe he could start to learn how.

“I’m glad you stayed,” is all he says, but Henry’s answering smile tells him that he understands exactly what Pike’s not saying.

***

It takes a little time to move from dancing around each other to being a couple, even though the whole town knows that Henry stayed so he and Pike could be together. Maybe that’s _why_ it takes some time to find their footing, because they know everyone’s watching them and speculating on their relationship. Pike’s never been comfortable being the subject of gossip, however well-meaning, and Henry mostly seems exasperated by the whole situation.

Add to that Pike’s sometimes overwhelming fear that one day Henry will wake up and realize he should have gone back to New York after all, plus the distraction of Henry trying to work out how to move his entire life back to Big Eden on a permanent basis, and it’s nearly spring before they manage to find a rhythm.

It’s nearly spring, still cold enough for the wind to bite when he opens the store in the morning, so Pike’s a little surprised when Henry turns up one afternoon and asks if he and Frances want to go for a walk. 

“I’m a little stuck on the piece I’m working on,” Henry says, his smile a little sheepish. “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I thought maybe if you could get away for a little while...”

“All right,” Pike says, easy as that, because they haven’t found their rhythm yet, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up trying.

He puts Jim in charge, then he goes in the back long enough to grab his coat before he whistles for Frances and follows Henry outside. The Seven Dwarves save their comments for after he’s out the door, and he doesn’t look back to see them watching him go. Instead he keeps his eyes locked on Henry, watching the way his eyes crinkle with his smile when Pike steps out of the store.

They’re just past the tree line in the woods behind the store when Henry reaches for his hand, sliding their fingers together as easy as you please. Frances runs ahead, chasing squirrels through the underbrush as Pike and Henry stroll along the rough trail that’s been carved through the trees toward the lake.

When Frances runs out of squirrels to chase she loops around back to them, and Henry finds her a stick to chase instead. He lets go of Pike’s hand to throw it, but as soon as she’s off and running he threads their fingers together again and looks over to gift Pike with one of his soft smiles.

“Sorry to pull you away in the middle of the day.”

Pike shrugs and grips his hand a little tighter. “Jim can look after the store.”

“It just feels like we haven’t really gotten a chance to spend much time together. I know that’s partly my fault, having to go back to New York to deal with my apartment and Mary Margaret’s nervous breakdown,” Henry says, grinning when Pike lets out a snort of laughter. 

Mary Margaret had taken Henry moving back to Big Eden better than anyone expected, but she was still having trouble coming to grips with the fact that it meant she wouldn’t have Henry at her beck and call every time she needed him, and that he didn’t have any plans to fly back to the coast every time she wanted him to do some networking. As a result, Henry’s been spending a lot of time on the phone with her, which means he’s tied up more often than not in the evenings.

“I’ve been painting some too,” he says. “Well, trying, anyway. I’d love to show you sometime.”

Pike nods and looks out over the lake as Frances rushes to the edge, barking at some early ducks come back from down south. “I could make you dinner, bring it over.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Henry answers automatically. It’s another dance between them; Henry insists Pike doesn’t have to keep cooking for him every night, and Pike insists he doesn’t mind. He likes taking care of Henry, misses having a reason to try out new recipes now that Henry’s on his own.

“Can’t really take you out to a restaurant,” Pike points out, which is true, unless they want to drive into Missoula. Which is fine for special occasions, but Big Eden doesn’t offer a lot in the way of courting venues.

“So this is a date, then?”

Pike shrugs and looks out over the lake, watching the sun reflect off the surface as Frances sniffs along the shore. If he tries hard enough he can see Sam Hart’s cabin from here -- Henry’s cabin now, he supposes -- with its dock that Pike knows Henry and Dean spent half their lives jumping off.

“I’ve never been much for dating.”

Henry laughs and turns to look at him, eyes shining with the same mirth Pike saw that day he didn’t board the plane. “Me neither. But I’ve always been a pretty big fan of dinner.”

Pike smiles, pleased, and nods his agreement. It’s tempting to hurry back to the store, to check inventory and start planning what he’s going to cook, but then Henry throws the stick for Frances again and laughs as she scrambles after it. Pike watches his head tip back and his eyes crinkle in delight, and he figures his kitchen can wait just a little bit longer.

***

Dating Henry Hart means attending a lot more social events than Pike ever contended with before. He’s known about all the barbecues and festivals and potlucks the town insists on throwing for every major holiday and some Pike’s pretty sure they made up, but he’s generally managed to avoiding attending them. Supplying the food goes a long way toward keeping people’s goodwill even though he’s not socializing with them, after all.

But Henry seems to like people, for as much as he grumbles about the lack of privacy in such a small town, so Pike finds himself being dragged to more celebrations than he ever planned on seeing. He resigns himself to sharing a table with Dean and the mayor at the annual Fourth of July picnic, watching Frances chase behind the kids, cleaning up whatever food they drop as they weave their way in and out of the crowd.

The whole town’s there, smiling every time one of them spots Pike and Henry, as though they’ve just been waiting for him to turn up. As though maybe they’ve _missed_ him, wanted him to take part in all their community bonding rituals. It’s not much of a surprise, considering they invite him to every party even though he never comes. What is a surprise is how smug they look when he turns up with Henry, as though they expected Henry to be the one to finally wear him down.

It’s enough to make Pike want to take Frances and run back to the store, to lock himself in with his cookbooks and find a recipe that’s complex enough to keep him focused until he forgets the way the whole town’s looking at him. Before he can act on it Henry’s reaching over, his hand resting on Pike’s and curling their fingers together. As though he knows what Pike’s thinking and he’s letting him know that he’s safe, that Henry’s always going to be there to talk for him when Pike can’t find the words on his own.

“Jim’s almost done cooking all those burgers you donated,” Henry says, leaning in until his shoulder’s pressed against Pike’s bicep. “You hungry?”

Before Pike can answer Dean’s standing up, patting Anna on the shoulder and nodding toward the food. “I’ll go with you.”

Henry squeezes Pike’s hand for a second before he nods back at Dean. “Great. We’ll be right back.”

Then he’s gone, Dean’s arm around his shoulders and making Henry laugh at some joke or shared memory, and Pike does his best not to watch them go. Instead he stares across the lawn to where the kids are playing tag, he thinks, Frances yipping joyfully as she runs from one to the next. She doesn’t get to play like this as a general rule, and he never really knew what she was missing out on, but now that he’s seen her with the kids he knows he’ll keep bringing her back. For her sake and for Henry’s, and maybe for his own as well.

“The kids seem to be having fun,” Anna says, reminding Pike that he’s not alone at the table. He nods and turns his attention back to her, watching her smile a little bashfully. They’ve never been friends, but they’re friendly enough, even if he didn’t vote for her. Now that she and her daughter are living with Dean and his boys they see each other more, so he should probably make an effort at conversation.

“Frances too,” he says, stealing another glance at her as she herds Dean’s youngest boy back toward the cluster of children. “I didn’t know she was so fond of kids.”

They watch the kids for a few more minutes, until two plates appear in front of them and Pike looks up to find Henry grinning at him as he slides back onto the bench to press their thighs together.

“Brought you some corn, too,” he says, then he sets a beer bottle in front of each of their plates.

Pike wants to ask how he managed to carry it all, because the plates are both laden with hamburgers and baked beans and three kinds of salad as well as corn on the cob. But Henry’s already digging in, so Pike just takes the fork he offers and starts with the potato salad.

***

They decide to move in together after a year and a half of careful courtship. Pike knows there’s a betting pool going, heard one of the Dwarves whispering about it and didn’t bother trying to put a stop to it, because he knows it wouldn’t do any good.

He doesn’t let it hurry him, either, because the last thing he wants to do is rush things with Henry and ruin what he hopes is his forever. 

So he’s happy to sit back and wait, driving out to Sam Hart’s cabin a few times a week to cook for Henry, taking walks with him through the woods in good weather and cuddling together under a blanket to watch the stars when it’s cold. Their lives don’t change all that much, is the thing. They’re still doing all the same things they’ve always done, it’s just that now they do them together more often than not.

But when it reaches the point where they’re spending whole nights together things start to get tricky, especially where Frances is concerned. She can sleep at Henry’s place just as easily as she can sleep in her own house, but it feels strange to keep her kibble in both houses if they’re not really living together.

“What do you think about moving in here?” Henry asks one night when they’re lying in his bed, skin on skin and Henry’s head pillowed on Pike’s shoulder. His fingers trace a pattern on Pike’s chest that feels a bit like brushstrokes, as though maybe he’s thinking of a painting he’s working on.

“Yeah?” Pike says, a little stupidly, but he’s half asleep and half convinced he’s already dreaming.

“Or I could move into town,” Henry says, shifting up onto one elbow to look down at Pike. “There’s the lake out here, of course, but you’d still have to rush out first thing to get to the store if you moved in here. If I moved in with you that wouldn’t be an issue, and I could use the cabin as a studio.”

“We could turn the space behind the store into a studio,” Pike says before he’s even really thought it through. “That way we’d both be heading into town for work most days.”

Henry’s smile is so bright it nearly lights up the room, and Pike’s helpless to keep himself from smiling back. “Plus there’s more room for Frances out here. More woods for her to run around, too.”

“She likes the lake,” Pike offers, hand tracing the curve of Henry’s shoulder all the way down to his elbow.

“Right, the lake,” he murmurs, then he leans in and presses a soft kiss against Pike’s lips.

It feels inevitable somehow that they’d end up here, laughing softly together in Henry’s bed -- their bed now -- while the moon reaches in through the curtains to catch the light in Henry’s eyes just so. He can hear Frances snoring softly from the bed Henry bought just for her and tucked in the corner of his bedroom, and out on the lake he can hear the night birds calling to each other.

Pike still half expects to wake up from a beautiful dream, but for now Henry’s here, warm and smiling against his skin, and Pike can’t think of a single place in the world he’d rather be.

***

Frances is ten years old when Henry comes home grumbling about retrospectives and not being old enough for that sort of attention. He sounds unhappy, but his cheeks are flushed and he can’t quite hide his smile when he hands over the letter for Pike to read.

“The Holter Museum in Helena wants to do a retrospective of my work,” he says, nose wrinkling on the word. “I mean, a retrospective, seriously? I’ve only been back in Montana for six years, that’s way too soon for a retrospective.”

“So you’re going to tell them no?” Pike asks, scanning the letter before looking up at Henry again.

Henry shakes his head and lets out a sigh that doesn’t sound anywhere near as annoyed he wants it to. “It’s great exposure, and I want to support the art community in the state.”

Pike nods and sets the letter down on the table before he moves forward, stepping carefully into Henry’s space. “Makes sense.”

Henry’s already nodding his agreement before Pike stops talking, picking up the letter and smoothing it out before he folds it up again. The edges are already worn, as though maybe he’s done that a few times since he opened it, and Pike knows that means Henry’s looking forward to the show, no matter how much he complains. 

“I’m going to have to drive some of my work out to the museum myself. Mary Margaret will ship what she’s got in New York, but most of my back catalog is here now. Anyway, I was thinking you could come with me, make it a weekend.”

They’ve never gone away together before, and it’s only Helena, but still, it might be nice to take a little time for themselves. “I could probably get Jim to watch the store. He could take Frances too.”

“I thought we could take her with us,” Henry says, reaching down to scratch Frances’ ears where she’s sniffing around for her dinner. “Find a dog-friendly hotel, you know. She deserves a change of scenery too, right?”

Pike’s pretty sure Frances doesn’t care much about the scenery outside Big Eden, but he’s happy enough to go along with whatever plans Henry comes up with. After all, Henry’s been back in Montana for six years, and he’s spent every one of them with Pike and Frances. It might have taken a little while to get to where they are, so comfortable in one another’s space that they move like a symphony, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright,” is all he says, hands on Henry’s hips and leaning down to brush their lips together. “That sounds nice.”

“It won’t be all pleasure, of course,” Henry says, but he’s grinning now. “You’ll have to help me with my paintings. But there are some good restaurants in Helena we could try, and we could go check out the Gates Of the Mountains. Last time I was there I was a kid, but I remember it was beautiful.”

Pike’s never been there at all, in spite of the fact that Helena’s less than a four hour drive from the town where he's spent his entire life. Expanding his world too much has always seemed dangerous, but now that he has Henry he thinks he can do more than he ever thought he was capable of before. He nods and lets his hands slide up Henry’s sides and back down again, pushing under the paint-flecked flannel shirt he hasn’t changed out of yet as Henry steers him backwards toward their living room. 

“Sounds perfect.”


End file.
